


Circles

by Ruiniel



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Beleriand, Edain, Elf/Human Relationship(s), Elves, F/M, Falling In Love, First Age, First Love, Haladin | House of Haleth, Helevorn - Freeform, Interspecies Relationship(s), Interspecies Romance, Star-crossed, The Silmarillion References
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:20:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22337692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ruiniel/pseuds/Ruiniel
Summary: Haleth has led her people well, dedicating her entire life to duty. Now an old woman, she reminisces of the past. A short AU where Caranthir the Dark and Haleth of the Haladin shared more than just words.---DISCLAIMER: This fan fiction is intended for personal, non-commercial use only. No copyright infringement is intended.
Relationships: Caranthir | Morifinwë/Haleth of the Haladin
Comments: 8
Kudos: 59





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "It matters not how strait the gate,
> 
> How charged with punishments the scroll,
> 
> I am the master of my fate,
> 
> I am the captain of my soul."
> 
> \- Invictus, William Ernest Henley

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My time is near, I feel it. A manner of mercy, they say. For one to seek and severe their ties to this world, to counsel others in carrying on their legacy, such as it is; and to say their farewells.

The years have been long and hard, full of both darkness and hope for us. And where before I ran and rode and fought over never-ending plains and marched through wild forests, now I merely listen, lying in bed, my bleak vision straying beyond the window of my hut amidst the darkened boughs of Brethil Forest, given to us by king Greymantle, the Lord of these lands.

I have finished my farewells, and now I wait for the nether. I go forth with my head held high, knowing I had done all I could for our people as we strove for a better home, a fuller life.

But life had never been simple.

As I sit here, unable to rise as before, my bones now crumbling and thin, my mind yet runs over green fields of memory, and forgotten seas of hope until at last, it comes to the one farewell I have not said, and never will. And there it dwells within me, word for ragged word.

I stood alone for most of my life, devoted to our woes and our struggles. I was tireless then. And even so, there were voices, either of dissent or wrought with genuine concern, wondering why I should not take a husband and bring forth heirs as customary among my people, and many peoples of this world.

 _Would that I could,_ I would say, and they would wonder and whisper, and surely think me mad and strange, though none ever questioned my words outright.

But what could I tell them? That I belonged with one whom I would never again meet until the ends of the world, and likely not even then? That I had surrendered myself to one I left behind, and that I did it all for them?

How could I tell them such?

No, the choice was my own. The loss is mine and his alone, as is our scarred secret, and grudgingly I clutch at these recollections of him and I; with each passing day that I slip further away, they gain new color and life. My body will be dust, my mind a memory. My deeds may not be sung, nor honored along the ages. They will forget me, as happens with all those fading on the pages of time.

But the secret still grips me, and though I desperately loathed its haggard pull in the past, it now may be the sole token left to me once I flee unhoused beyond the evernight.

Now, as endless times before and despite my savage rebuttal of it through the years, my thought ever strays to him.

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I had little love for his manner when we first spoke.

They had cornered us like animals, and we were struggling to hold against the dark ones who came upon us as cruel and swift as lightning. My father and brother and I, and all our people, left our homesteads and retreated until we came to an angle of land between the rivers Gelion and Ascar. There we built hasty defenses and led all our own through, despite many knowing in their hearts that this may well be their end. We lay besieged by the orc, and the little food we had saved dwindled rapidly.

For days we held our own, and the enemy seemed to ever grow in numbers; we were tiring.

I was not even in my adult years at the time but had never shunned the blade, for that was our way. And so I stood beside my father and drove them out and kept them at bay as best we could. And all they did was to howl and bark at us in their mangled language, and their beastly cries sewed horror in our hearts.

I recall the warmth of the heavy hand on my shoulder. "Pay them no heed, Haleth. We may not win the day. But we must hold," my father said, and I listened, or tried to, gritting my teeth against the fear coiled deep within me.

Those were the last words he ever spoke unto me.

I watched as he fell, and then saw my brother, a dread look in his eyes and a steel grip holding me firm. "You stay. Our people will have need of you. Remember our stand."

After a hasty embrace, he went, and there died my family, hewed before the frightened eyes of our women and children.

Then on the seventh day, the foe at last broke our defenses and their weapons cleaved through our people.

And as we fought beyond hope, bewildered, we heard the wailing of trumpets, and soon our eyes beheld tall riders and a sea of silver spears that beamed like beacons in the dark.

Swiftly this fey and mighty host rode them down, the disgusting creatures who ruined and dismembered my family, and threw them into the rivers.

I recall running straight to where the bodies of my father and brother lay, straining to breathe and draw them from the midst of the slain, to cover their battered limbs with my cloak.

Then there was movement and a cloud of dust, and lifting my gaze I saw a great black steed, bearing a rider clad in silver mail and crimson. His shining helm hid most of his face and blinded by stray tears, I could not see his eyes.

He came to a halt, high on his horse, and an imperious voice with a stilted accent filled my ears.

"Where is your leader?"

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As I stood inside the hastily raised tent, I recall gaping in wonder at the intricately woven materials, and sparse yet elegant furniture.

I had no notion of elegance at the time. Our folk had traveled much and toiled hard for a sparse and lacking life, and we knew little of the ways of other kindreds. Least of all we knew of these foreign Elves. And though I was enthralled, I also felt a sliver of envy rise within me.

Who were these high lords atop their mighty steeds, so carelessly flaunting their worth and riches before us? How dared others not partake of our misery, and so easily dismiss it with their steel stares and aloof manner?

He stood there in his polished armor, his dark hair of a foreign shine to my eyes, falling in waves over strong shoulders draped in crimson. I knew it was him by the sight of his helm, placed nearby on a table.

I stood straighter when our stares collided, and for a moment, my breath fell short. I recall the flicker as if it were yesterday.

His voice beckoned me away from my momentary lapse of reason. Its quality was grave and low when he spoke, its call dark as a clear winter night.

"Lady Haleth, I bid you welcome," the Elf continued his mangling of our tongue.

"I am no lady," I blurted harshly, cursing my stunted words and hitched speech. But I stood as tall and straight as I could, or as seven days of battle and loss would allow.

A black fire brimmed in those eyes, but his face showed nothing.

"Then what am I to call you?" asked the Elf then, and I remember the surge of shame at my foolish compulsion to thwart him.

I berated myself. This foreign lord and his men had come, found us in dire need and dying by the numbers, and without falter had granted their invaluable aid.

I knew that gratitude was due.

But nothing more.

Still, I worried that I may have offended him. I knew little of Elves, and so was astonished when instead of ire, I saw the softening lines of his face, and the slight quiver of his lips.

Was he mocking me?

My hands tightened involuntarily into fists. A mighty Elf-lord though he was, and ruler of these lands, but I came to him as required by honor. And though I stood in worn furs and leathers and he in plate and rich silks woven by immortal hands, our people's blood had spilled countless times defending these lands _\- his_ lands. Thus, I spoke for them, and he would show me the respect that was due.

"You are to call me chieftain."

I still so vividly remember his shapely eyebrows shooting upward, and the bemusement on his face. "How old are you?" asked the sullen Elf, now come around his table and leaning back with his palms against it, a shadowed smirk playing on his features.

Potent anger rose through my entire being, and barely could I ease the nervous trembling of my limbs. He saw it either way. He also knew that in that moment I felt the need to strike him. I know this with certainty, for we spoke of it later.

"My age should be of no concern to you or anyone else, I should think. Chieftain is what I am, following the death of my father and brother in this sortie."

The mirth dancing in those nightly coils died, and his face became stern as we faced each other, his youthful features cut in stone. "My condolences for your loss, _chieftain_ ," he stressed the last word, only to rile me in spite, I thought.

Still, I nodded in acceptance of his words and held his gaze. "Lord Carnistir, I speak for all of us when I say we are most grateful for your aid," I braved, careful in drawing any sort of emotion out of my voice. "But we have nothing to offer you as recompense for this timely support," I delved to the midst of the matter, assuming that was the direction this was headed.

He righted himself then and walked closer to where I stood, straight as a rod, my hand grasping the handle of my father's sword for dear life. Suddenly that damnable tent felt much, much smaller.

My heart drummed faster with every step until he was before me, taller than any being I had ever seen and though I knew little of life beyond the strip of land our people called home, I was certain then, that he would also remain the fairest.

His eyes flitted briefly over me, and I wondered why he lingered. I wanted this to be done with. But if I knew little of Elves, I knew even less of the male ilk. I thought nothing of how his dark eyes strayed to my unruly brown locks, down to my calfskin wrapped boots and up again, over my dirty tunic, marred with orc blood and grime; his gaze at last locked on mine.

I jerked my chin up in defiance, unwilling to grant anyone the pleasure of thinking they may cower me. He would later tell me he had been smitten, though failing to acknowledge such even to himself. And I would tell him he was a fool.

But then we both were.

"I want no manner of restitution from your people, Haleth daughter of Haldad," at last came the retort. "If that is your worry, then you may freely relinquish the thought."

"I may freely do much. We are all free, and will fight for it until our dying breath."

Then, to my wonderment, in an abrupt flurry leaving me both breathless and intrigued, his mood turned fey.

"Free, on _my_ lands."

This was preferable. An irate Elf-lord was much, much better than a scornful one. "Not for much longer," I said, every bit the stubborn daughter my father had raised me to be.

"Make certain of it," the Elf spoke lowly through gritted teeth, his face poorly veiling his discontent, and I remember how it was my turn to smirk then.

He abruptly turned his back on me and went to sit back at his richly crafted table, taking a scroll in hand.

I fought against the brimming humiliation of this gesture, but before I could leave without a word, insulted at this petty disregard for my pretense of equality, he looked at me again and spoke. "You are weary. Best we continue this on the morrow, I think. Farewell, for now, chieftain."

I shortly inclined my head. Secretly thankful for his words despite the strange manner of our meeting, I turned on my heel and left him alone in his mastercrafted tent.

That night, along with the cries of my father and brother, the dark light of his eyes followed me through the first rays of dawn.


	2. Chapter 2

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I have always known my desires and never shied from making them known. Where there is youth there is fire and I was no different. My folk had well respected Haldad, my father. And they had seen enough of me during our desperate stand, which we thought would be our last, to readily support my hand in the matter of rule. I awaited challengers, naysayers, but to my surprise there came none.

We knew there was no life for us in Thargelion. We had to be gone, and a life further West was our purpose. Farther from the darkness ruling the world, which the Elves ever battled since their arrival to these lands, or so I had heard.

Following our fight against the creatures of the enemy, the Elven host stood by us for some time yet and aided to rebuild parts of our homesteads. I had to admit the need was dire, with the many wounded we had in our midst.

Tall, fair, and cold in manner most of them were, but none shirked from any duties and they carried even the most menial of tasks with no protest.

It was a strange sight.

"Why are you doing this?" I remember asking the one whom I knew to address as prince Carnistir. For he was a prince of Elves I had learned, by nature of his line. And it all made me seethe though I no less lamented the prickly nature of our first meeting.

"I do not understand," the Elf offered, then standing beside me, his hands clasped behind his back.

"You continue to aid us. Why?"

There was a pause before he spoke. "Are your valor and unity against the Foe not reasons enough?" he answered with a question, at which point my initial dislike of him returned. "But before you feel slighted yet again," he continued, "it is because you so clearly need it."

Many things I detested about his words. We knew our worth; we needed no Elves to honor it. But he also spoke true, as we sorely welcomed their aid in numbers.

His demeanor had changed the second time we spoke at length, and the following. The frosty disposition remained, but there was no more derision on his face or in his voice when he addressed me. The flame in his gaze - that burned the same.

"We will remove to Estolad," I spoke unto him, hoping there would be no qualms with my following words. "But we are not yet ready." He had been quite vehement that first time that we were to leave as swiftly as possible, and part of me loathed offering words of penance for our delay.

"You misconstrue me, chieftain," said the Elf after moments in silence. "Whatever I have said, I did not intend to at once force you away from lands none make use of today. Stay and prepare, and depart when you are ready."

I felt his eyes on me as my gaze focused ahead.

"You have my continued support, should you seek it."

Again I found it curious that he would offer such to mortals his kind clearly thought fleeting and wild, and reduced to surviving the day, and therefore beneath them. There was a serene pride in the manner of the Eldar towards us Men, though it may have been more visible to our eyes than theirs.

I looked to him finally and lingered on the dark and treacherous grace of his features in the red sun. His straight, shining hair a shadow river to drown in, and I recall wondering how it would feel against my fingers.

"Chieftain."

I nearly flinched, meeting his gaze. "Aye, lord."

"Will you and what you can spare of your men join us for a hunt? I see the need is dire, and after your heavy losses I know they would welcome the nourishment."

I felt my face warming and cursed whatever had caused it, wishing not for the first time that my father were doing this instead of me. And then my mien must have grown dark at the thought, for he spoke again.

"Of course, it is only a courtesy invitation. We can do well enough on our own."

"No!" I added, too swiftly for my liking. "No, we will join you."

So he nodded to me in his strange way, his palm to his chest, and left me watching a sun that had already set. I found it peculiar how his steps made no sound as he strode away.

Now, thinking back to my young and deluded self, I can clearly say that was the moment; when deep within, I knew what I wanted.

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We hunted together once, twice, and soon times too many to count, both with and without a host.

As my people lingered and thoughts of leaving were delayed, all focus turned on retrieving what we had lost and rebuilding our livelihoods, and I found solace in this new and unlikely company. It suited me, and at the time I thought little of the months he would ride from his dwelling in Helevorn to see how we fared, bringing men and some form of aid or another more often than not.

And as the years passed, the quiet and morose Elf-lord I met after a grueling fight became someone I was glad to see riding before me and eager to speak to, of matters of both rule and strategy and all in between. Of course, to him I would never show such interest outright.

Then sometimes we strayed from our company to be alone, where I could share things I dared not tell anyone since my brother perished. He would listen, only offering advice when requested, which I now think may have been a change to suit my then easily riled temper. And he would speak of himself, and his own brothers and family, of his kind. It astonished me at first, for I never thought him capable or willing of opening so honestly regarding kin. And not towards a mortal either way.

It was during one such outing that it all changed.

We were pursuing the trace of a boar for a while, and I was close behind him, for his senses were keener. He had ceased his fluid stalking and listened intently.

"Carnistir," I whispered, wanting detail on what he could discern ahead.

What he did was unexpected. He half-turned as he listened and placed a long, elegant finger to my lips, hedging me to silence.

The gesture marked the first time we touched and was soon accompanied by the swift throb of my heart. And then as in a dream he slowly turned to face me fully, and I knew not whether to brave this or flee.

I had never felt the coward before.

His finger slowly glided away from my dry lower lip, but his eyes never left mine.

"We should not linger so, alone together, any longer," he spoke then. "Tongues are loose and minds scattered."

His words caused a near physical pain I did not understand. How long had he waited to tell me this, I wondered? I then knew he had been pondering on the different facets of it all, of _this,_ perhaps more than I. And I felt even more young and foolish before him. "You wish for us not to meet any longer?" I had to know.

"I wish for you to be held in honor, not a topic of gossip." He was closer.

"I am held in honor, or had you not noticed," my pride said, and we regarded each other for a long time in silence.

My lips parted as I studied his face. His beautiful, unblemished face, strong dark eyebrows framing eyes where an eternal fire burned.

"Is that all you wish for?" I asked, my voice too small to my own ears, regretting the words the moment I uttered them.

"Haleth."

"Yes," I breathed, unable to look away, expecting an Elvish rebuttal from the hissed way he uttered my name. I already felt the cold shame at thinking such things as I did a moment before.

When he said nothing more and did not move, I knew, somehow I felt, that he was faced with the same inner strife as I.

By then I had not been with any men, nor shared even a kiss to know what it meant or how it felt.

But that did not prevent my arm from reaching around his neck, nor my lips from brushing over his in a movement so swift even he appeared bewildered.

So we clashed, more strongly than blade against blade, and to my selfish delight, it took a mere flicker of time before he deepened what I had begun. He drew me closer into him, tasting me wildly, and I was smiling like a fool into his kiss. And we went this way until my searching, fumbling fingers disarrayed his perfect silken tresses, and my body came completely lined against his as he held me with near bruising strength.

Just as suddenly he ceased it all, at once astonished and confused, and I recall the misery and doubt brimming in his eyes. He took me by the shoulders, still panting from the sudden storm we had both weathered. "This is... too young... you are... too young."

So many differences between us. He had lived years many times my age, yet he failed to understand human reckoning. I was not too young to hold a sword and thrust it into the flesh of orcs. I was not too young to watch my family die while I stood and fought to live, though I wished to join them. Too young to lead a scattered people, I was not.

I was not too young to love him.

"You foolish Elf," were the only words I had, and taking him by the collar of his tunic, I kissed him again - this time deeper and longer, and though he stiffened at first, to my great relief I soon felt him relent.

Then his arms were around my waist, and I had little chance to breathe for the pursuits of his mouth on mine. A scent of wild dark forests, the warmth of a roaring fire on the coldest of nights. From that hour I would know it anywhere, and in any Age of the world.

"This is a war of your making, chieftain," the Elf whispered with a crushed smile when we at last broke apart, his chin resting on the crown of my head. I can still feel the burning quality of his hands on my back, bringing me closer.

Little did I know how much truth his words held at the time.


	3. Chapter 3

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The cold seeps through my garments, though I lie covered in layers of furs. The young maid tending to me releases my icy hand, kneeling to stir the fire cracking in the low lit chamber. Watching the flames with weary eyes I sigh, reminded of its duality. An eternal force of nature, both purifying and destructive in its power. It will not be much longer now. I feel my body readying itself for rest at last. And though my spirit writhes, twisting against the void torn long ago, I am ready. I will receive the gift with all the grace I have left, and hold this fear I feel shackled to its worldly bonds. Beyond the Circles there is no place for it and my sole hope and wish, were I to be granted one, is that my father and brother await me there.

And then I wonder if they will. Will I even remember the being I had been, bound in flesh? Will my memories follow me past the Doors of Night? Will I yet know of _him?_

Even in what I feel to be my last hours, I dwell on it all. And again I feel guilt, for I will be free, and he will linger through long Ages as fate deems fit. How I wish that I could speak the words, so he could hear them one last time.

As the pains lengthen, I focus inward, and I recall the winds lashing at our faces as we assessed our enemy from hidden slopes; our swords slashing into fell flesh as we fought back to back, ever watchful of each other. I will never forget the beauty of him, so deadly in his dance amid the bloody battles we faced; or the warmth in his dark eyes as we stood lying in nothing but our skin and his hand would roam, pulling my hips to him. I still recall, as if it were yesterday, the most tender touch I ever felt on me, pursuing my sighs of content.

 _"Sing for me, narwe,"_ he would whisper against my lips, diving into me with unrestrained longing, and despite my resent at being led in many things, this I would allow him. In passion, he nearly always ruled and I followed, with reckless abandon and ever despairing at the thought of our coming separation. I needed him like nothing else in those days, and with every moment we spent together I felt us melt deeper into one another.

Their customs differed much to those of Men in many things, but none more so than in matters of the heart.

I often see the vision of him on our first night together splayed onto the forest floor, the Elven prince and the unlikely leader of Men, hiding from the world akin to children shunning their elders; his eyes full of yearning as his hands steadied my own hungry ones eagerly picking at the fastenings of his fine garb. Telling me, with gentleness and soft words that would have made his captains grimace, of what it all meant to him; how to lie with him was the sealing of an unbreakable bond that none of us would ever be free of.

 _"Will you consent?"_ he had asked, with a solemnity which I then felt was ill-matched to our light and tender pursuits.

And taken as I was, by him and all that he brought into my life, I did.

Fool that I was.

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As years passed there came the time at last to fulfill my promise, and my people were eager and ready to travel to better lands with renewed hope. We were finally prepared.

"Where?"

"To Estolad, as I have originally deemed suitable," I spoke in answer to his curt question. My eyes looked past the wide window where a full moon shone reflected in quiet waters.

He stood with his back turned to me, his hand propped against the smoldering fireplace. We had met in his Helevorn dwelling but twice in all our sparse and fragmentary times together, gone through significant lengths to not arouse suspicion in the minds of others.

"No, you are not," he muttered, his voice hoarse and low.

"I am, and we must. It is time." My own voice was brittle as ice.

"By whose notion?" he whirled to face me then, and I was dismayed by the certainty that this would be just as difficult as I had imagined, during all those times I repeated the words in my solitude.

"Mine," I said with my head held high, and at least I kept the waver in my voice at bay.

His eyes on me were molten. "You cannot." And he drew nigh, close enough for me to feel the tremor of him. But then he went completely still, his gaze set beyond me.

Cautiously, I placed my hands on him and pursued a one-sided embrace. "You know of duty more than anyone. I, too, have one yet to fulfill for my people," I spoke into him, even as I felt him tense in my arms.

He sharply drew back as if I had struck him, and his eyes were terrible when met with mine. "Damn your people, and curse your Orcish stubbornness," he seethed darkly, the pale skin of his neck flushing a reddish hue from the fire of his ire.

Then he must have seen my widened eyes and the nervous quiver of my limbs, for he quietened and lowered his head. Still, with his gaze set downward he stood until I finally found the strength to approach him again. He turned his head, refusing to look my way.

I wished yet again, as every time in his presence lately, that my chest were hollow.

"Duty," he spat as if the word caused the most grievous offense. "I offered you your choice of freedom, lands to dwell in, protection. I offer you myself. But you, in your crass compulsion to never be subdued, insist on this foolishness," he spoke sadly. "Why, Haleth?"

He was not being unreasonable. This was all we could ever hope for. But I knew that I loved him more than I did my people, which both frightened and deeply shamed me. It felt a betrayal of the silent promise I made to my father and the trust placed in me by my brother.

 _We must hold_.

"Carnistir," I hedged, speaking as softly as one would to a dear but enraged beast, using the name I knew he preferred. My hand lightly caressed his set jaw. "I cannot. It means abandoning what my family has perished fighting for." This, I hoped, he of all beings would understand. Was he not bound by a similar oath, after all?

But his sharp eyes remained averted from mine. "A life of nothing awaits your people in the wilds of the West."

I forgave him that, for I knew how much I was hurting him.

"But time among your kind has taught me," he continued tiredly, "that despite your fleeting days Men always choose unlikely tales of what may be over wisdom." His words, though bitter, held a distinct quality then - that of fated foresight, which only the Eldar seemed to possess.

"I cannot stay," I choked, and my walls crumbled before him and his pain. "I cannot be a wife to you," I finally braved, as gently as his words allowed me to be.

"But you _are_ my wife!" he interrupted harshly, and his gaze broke my barely held composure. "Or have you forgotten?" and he stepped against me even as I paced back, but despite the now blazing fury in his eyes, I felt no fear.

I had little choice but to falter and retreat from him, and he was ever advancing until my heels struck the wooden edge of his bed, and I fell against his dark red sheets.

And though I knew this would change nothing, I allowed him to trap me, his fire burning against my face, my chest, my hips.

"Answer me, Haleth..." he repeated his question, though any pretense of response was long abandoned. And his lips soon spoke in different ways, his hands touching me in places he knew left me raw with need. And of course, he knew I would never forget.

His fingers urgently divesting me of my garments, he took me fast and harsh well into the night allowing no reprieve, his hand fisted in my hair, his mouth barely allowing mine a drawing breath. And I clung to him as if my life was forfeit, joining this fierce and blissful revenge until we were both slippery and breathless and worn with longing.

"Please..." he pleaded into my hair, his lips trailing searing kisses along my neck, and I held him tighter with the warmth of him on my skin. To this day, I feel it. That was the first and only time I ever heard one of the Eldar beg subdued by misery, and it was sobering to see that in pain, they were more like us than we knew.

"We are one," he said muffled against my chest, his voice hitched with fear of loss. He shook my body against him. "Haleth, please..."

Come the dawn, I left.

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When the morrow of our departure came, his face betrayed nothing but the aloof manner of the northern Elf-lord that he was. But I saw, somehow beyond my power of comprehension, that the light in his distant eyes was dimmed and tattered as the crowd gathered behind us. And he was stone when we said our customary farewells before both our peoples, thanking him for all he had done, while he wished me safe travels and to reach our intended goal.

I merely nodded, my throat thick as I fought to quell the surge of pain twisting me inside. His own.

My own.

And then I understood his meaning, on our last night together.

_We are one._

He saw the change in me, but I had already made my choice.

Even so, his gaze was stern, his face as blank as it had been on our first encounter, all those years past. The only movement that of our cloaks billowing in the crisp morning wind, I turned my face briefly to the waiting crowd.

Then looking back to him with glistening eyes, I inclined my head in swift farewell, striving to keep my heart from ruling over me, and left.

I never saw him again.

Night after night, for many good years to come, I would feel the hollow created by my own choosing, and hear his whispers in my ear. And even now, as I lose myself in the dying embers of the fire, my body draining of life and shedding its earthly ties, I still do.

_Haleth, please..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "narwe" = "fiery red one" (Quenya)
> 
> Thank you for reading.


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